Nature Versus Nurture

A high school classmate of mine recently posted a comment about bullying on our class FaceBook wall. This was prompted by the recent school shooting in Ohio. As the comments continued to roll in, it was pointed out that neither of the shooter’s parents was present in his life and he was being raised by his grandmother. From there, a number of comments were made about his choice to shoot his classmates being a “parenting” issue.

The “nature versus nurture” argument is one that I’ve pondered quite a bit. I wouldn’t say that parenting isn’t a strong determining factor in how a kid behaves, but I don’t think it’s the only determining factor. I’m lucky - I’m blessed with great children. But their father and I certainly can’t take all of the credit for that. God, through genetics, gave them generally kind, happy, responsible personalities, and other than being the donor of half of those genes, I didn’t have much to do with that.

Let’s look at a very simplified example.

Sara’s room is generally a disaster – my husband might tell you that’s a poor parenting issue on my part, and I’ll take some responsibility for it because my feeling is that it’s her space and I can just close the door. But if you look at it genetically, she comes by it honestly. Her room is about as messy as mine was when I was her age. That’s only my fault because I made the egg that made her. Parenting-wise, I could, and do, encourage/nag/threaten her to clean up her room, but in the end her nature is to be messy.

My children don’t get into big trouble – or at least they haven’t gotten into big trouble. They’re empathetic and kind, they’re sometimes a little bit mean, they get mad, they are happy – they’re normal people.  I know other parents who share my values, love their kids as much as I love mine and are at least as involved in their children’s lives as Rick and I are in ours. If their child makes a bad choice and gets in trouble, is that a parenting issue? I don’t think so.

My point is that it’s easy to point a finger at the parents and say, “You should have known” or “If you were a better parent your child wouldn’t have made that choice,” but it’s not always a fair accusation. I made some terrible choices when I was younger. My parents taught me right from wrong. I knew what they expected of me. The wrong choices were mine and mine alone and certainly not the fault of poor parenting. Rick and I have taught our children right from wrong, and they know exactly what we expect from them. But God forbid, if they make a choice to do something terrible, I’ll feel awful, but I will also know it’s not because we didn’t parent them well.

God gave us an immense responsibility by giving us children to nurture and raise. I’m not saying that this responsibility isn’t valuable and important in determining who a child grows into. But God also gave us, and our children, free will. As they get into their teenage years and beyond, they have more opportunities to make their own choices. And if they choose wrong versus right, like I did a few times, it’s their choice. Hopefully good parenting will at least teach them to take responsibility for their own actions and make it right. But again, it’s their choice.

Never Will I

I’m always looking for things to write about. Once I find something, I continually write the blog post in my head until I get somewhere I can actually type it out. This evening I was looking at a website called www.creativewritingprompts.com. On the page are the numbers 1-346 and as you scroll over the number a prompt pops up. There were lots of interesting ones, and a good daily exercise for me will be to have someone give me a number and I have to use that prompt.

Today though, I just scrolled through at random until I found something that floated my boat. The prompt is “50 things you’ll never do.” A couple of weeks ago I wrote the things that I want to do for my mid-life crisis so I thought that a list of things I’ll never do might be interesting to put together. So here it is and just an FYI, I’ve avoided obvious things that are either impossible or illegal. Oh, and I could only come up with 10 before it was time for me to go to bed. So shoot me.

1. Get an animal from anywhere except a rescue organization. Unless a cute, sweet stray follows me home and adopts me like Jenny did.
2. Drink gin again. I got really sick a long time ago after drinking far too much gin. Now I can hardly type the word without feeling queasy.
3. Have another baby. God already gave me the two greatest children I could have ever asked for. Plus, I really need my sleep.
4. Drive a tractor trailer. They’re too darn big and they scare me. I can’t imagine how someone learns how to drive one of those things.
5. Shoot a hand gun again. I shot at a target with one a couple of years ago and it freaked me out. I’ve shot a rifle and a shot gun before with no problem, but it seems to me that the only purpose for a hand gun is to shoot people. It felt evil.
6. Go to a boxing match.
7. Let the single black hair that grows on my chin go unplucked. Enough said.
8. Eat a beating frog heart. Andrew Zimmern did that on his Bizarre Foods television show and it made me almost as queasy as the thought of gin does.
9. Sara wants me to include that I’d never punch her. Duh.
10. Like Duke basketball. Sorry JP.

Imposters

Create in me a clean heart, O God,

And renew a right spirit within me

- Psalm 51:11

This is the scripture reference for today’s meditation in from Ashes to Hope, a book of meditations for Lent that I picked up at church the other day. This Psalm is thought to have been written by King David, showing his repentance for his adultery with Bathsheba and for arranging the death of her husband. While the message that God forgives us our sins is a good one, there was another quote in the piece from Augustine that really grabbed me: “God loves each of us as if there were only one of us.”

Think about that for a minute. If you’re anything like me, you have what my Aunt Kate refers to as The Imposter Syndrome. I repeatedly introduce myself to people that I see only once in awhile because I can’t imagine that they’d remember me. I feel disconnected and irrelevant daily. I’ve never felt particularly beautiful (except on my wedding day), and I constantly feel like I don’t fit in.

I’m not saying this to fish for compliments or sympathy – I know that all of this is self-imposed, and no one except me can make me feel any particular way.

Interestingly enough, with the exception of time that I’m with my family and a few really special friends, the only place I don’t feel these stupid, negative feelings is at church. I love the things that I get to do at church. I get to do things that I’m good at. I work with the teens, I read the lessons, I play the bells, I get to see friends who don’t really know the Imposter me. They know who I hope is the real me.

Imagine how amazing it would be if I could remember what Augustine said outside of the safe walls of St. Martin in the Fields. I would never be an imposter because I’d always know I was loved as if I was the only one. And because I knew that I was the recipient of that type of love, I’d do all I could to deserve it.

A very smart woman I know made the point last Sunday that “God doesn’t move, we move.” When I feel the Imposter, I’ve moved. Put these two points together and I have a God that patiently waits to show me that He loves me as if I was the only one. All I have to do is move back into that thin place where I can see it, remember it, feel it.

So create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me, so I can find that thin place wherever I am.

Is It Time for a Mid-Life Crisis?

I’m thinking about having a mid-life crisis. Either that, or I’m going through menopause, but a mid-life crisis sounds like more fun, so I’m going to go with that. I sent a text to Hannah telling her this, and her suggestions were to buy her an expensive car (actually she said “buy your favorite daughter a car, so she could have meant either herself or Sara – I’ve never told them which is my favorite) and/or fainting goats. She also suggested dyeing my hair blue. None of these things actually peaked my interest, although fainting goats would be kind of fun, so I’m now pondering what other things I could do.

I don’t want to make any major changes because change stresses me out. So don’t expect me to announce an “Eat, Pray, Love” kind of sojourn. And I don’t have any big money to spend, so no expensive car for me either, and major home renovations are out of the question as well.

So let’s see. I’ll make a sort of bucket list – and I’ll assume that I’ll have some money, but not tons of it. The list is in no particular order.

1. Take a writing class, finish my book, and therefore become a bestselling author (I can dream, can’t I?)

2. Learn how to be a midwife – I think delivering babies would be fun.

3. Walk 60 miles – oh, wait – I’m already planning on doing that. I signed up for the 3-Day Walk in October.

4. Exercise more. See #3 to realize that if I plan to do the walk, I’ll have to exercise more to get ready.

5. Take piano lessons

6. Hike some of the Appalachian Trail. I actually have a friend who might be willing to take me.

7. Skydive

8. Take acting classes

9. Volunteer at a pet shelter

10. Go back to Paris

11. Take the kids on an African safari (not to hunt of course, just to take pictures)

12. Open a restaurant franchise

13. Go back to school and get my teaching certificate and teach high school English

14. Take a cooking class

15. Learn how to do some kind of craft

16. Paint my kitchen

17. Re-do my bedroom

18. Landscape my back yard (#16, 17 and 18 assume I don’t have to work and can focus on projects like this any time and not just on the weekends). The neighbors would probably appreciate me doing the front yard as well.

19. Take an Outward Bound course

20. Ride the best roller coasters in the country

Most of these things actually seem possible - except maybe the craft thing - I'm not really good with my hands! I’m open to other suggestions though!

Happy Birthday Twice Over!

Two of the most influential women in my life have birthdays this weekend. Jeanie’s was yesterday (she’s my wonderful, evil step-mother) and Bonney’s is today (she’s my awesome sister-in-law).

As I was pondering what to write about them, I thought about the concept of God Bearers. In old church theology, God Bearer refers to Mary, who actually “bore” Jesus in her womb, but it also can refer to any ordinary thing or person who brings God to us – not always in big ways, but also in small ones too. Both of these beautiful, ordinary women have been God bearers to me throughout the time that I’ve known them.

Bonney has a fierce faith, and through the course of our relationship she’s been a prayer warrior for me and an ear when I need a friend, but also someone who will make me admit the truth of my own shortcomings – if not to her then at least to God. We see God in all sorts of things if we just look, and I see Him in Bonney’s friendship, humor and compassion. She’s funny, warm, loving, focused, hard-working and faithful.  And I hope to be like her some day.

Jeanie has a quieter faith. What I’ve learned from Jeanie is that the things that are valuable are not things we can touch and hold. The valuable things are time with those we love, taking care of those who have less than we do, being careful with the earth and being thankful for those things we are given. God shines through Jeanie as she lives her life focusing on these treasures. She loves me more than I could have ever hoped someone who didn’t actually give birth to me could, and I am so thankful for her presence in my life and the life of my family. Every time she introduces me to someone new as “our daughter” I know that God has given me the blessing of not just one mother who loves me, but two.

So happy birthday to both of these remarkable women, a mother and a sister. I’m so blessed to have you both in my life, and I love you!

A Sad Goodbye

I met my future in-laws about three months after Rick and I started dating. I was nervous, of course. I was nervous, partly because Rick was very close to his parents. That was one of the things that attracted me most to him – his relationship with his parents and his sister. It was important to me - that closeness - and I didn’t want to be in the way or, on the other hand, excluded.

My fears were all for naught. Rick’s parents treated me like I was a member of the family from the moment they met me. Something I have always been grateful for. I was especially taken with Efrain, Rick’s father. It was Thanksgiving, and he came to Rick’s house bearing a large jar of pico de gallo that he had made (one of his specialties), and I attacked that jar with relish. Efrain made fun of me mercilessly, which I enjoyed immensely.

The next time I saw them was the next month at Christmas when Rick and I announced that we were getting married the next Thanksgiving. Again, the reception was as warm as I could have ever hoped for. And it just got better from there.

Dad was an interesting man. Born in Eagle Pass, Texas, he grew up in a small, tight knit community with lots of family around.  He was in the military, once in the South Pacific when he was younger, before getting married, and again when he got called into active duty in the Air Force in the 1960s. After his service was done, they stayed in Dover, Delaware and he taught at the college there and finally settled into a job with the state. He loved to tell stories about all of the things he had experienced, and I loved listening to them.

Efrain was a man with a servant heart. He was a very faithful man, and helped anyone he could, whenever he could. He loved meeting new people, and I don’t think he ever met anyone with whom he couldn’t share a story or two. He took great care of his family and friends without a second thought. Always. He was a devoted grandfather and his grandchildren are better people for having had him in their lives. He was quick with a joke, or a laugh, and filled with the joy of just being around his family, which in turn filled us with joy.

My memories of him are full of laughter and smiles, loving embraces and long talks. He loved his wife, he loved his kids, he loved his grandchildren, and he loved me. And that was a gift for which I’m eternally thankful.

Efrain passed away on Wednesday. He leaves behind a family that was so blessed by his presence, and we will surely miss him. But Heaven got a new angel, and I know they’re so happy to have him. I hope his meeting with God was one of light, comfort and joy. One day we’ll all see him again, and that day will be one of the most joyful days I can imagine. I wish him peace and joy, and I hope he looks down on us and knows that we all loved him with all of our hearts.

Dad, thank you for being the best father-in-law I could have ever wished for. I love you, and I will miss you.

What a Way to Ring In the New Year!

December 31^st was a day of sharp contrasts.  I was awakened in my Asheville hotel room at 7:00am by a call from Hannah, who was in a room across the hall with Sara and my niece, Kelsey. She asked me to come down to their room because the people in the room next to theirs were screaming at each other. I would have woken up anyway because they were so loud I could hear them in our room as well.

I walked down the hall, and as I walked past the screamers’ room, I knocked on the door. The girls will tell you I banged on it, but I really don’t think I did. I didn’t want to talk to the screamers, I just wanted them to realize that they were not in a particularly private setting and they might want to bring it down a notch or two.

According to the girls, they woke up to the beginnings of the argument, heard a loud slap, the man say “Ow!” and begin to cry. I heard the man screaming at the top of his lungs asking his companion what she thought she was doing and why she was such a princess. About 20 minutes later, after I was back in my room, I heard talking in the hall. The man (hardly a man, actually, he couldn’t have been older than 21 or 22) was loading his luggage onto a valet cart. He was being alternatively helped and berated by an older man who the girls said was giving both of the screamers a hard time about all of the fuss. The man-boy looked more miserable than almost anyone I’ve ever seen. It made me sad. I wondered why two people, especially young people, would waste their time and energy with someone they were so obviously not meant to be with.

Contrast that with the joyful evening celebration of my niece Mollie’s wedding to her college sweetheart, Dave. Here we have two young people who couldn’t be more perfect for each other. Faithful and devoted Christians, Mollie and Dave personify the term “equally yoked” and were the happiest bride and groom I’ve ever seen. Beaming doesn’t begin to describe their faces at the reception. The ceremony was beautiful and personal and filled with love for each other, their families and friends, and God. My favorite moment was when the pastor was saying the prayers and Mollie and Dave were standing, facing each other, holding hands with their foreheads together in prayer. It was lovely, and you could tell that at that moment, for them the only three beings in the room were Mollie, Dave and God. I wish them many more moments like that throughout their lives.

So congratulations to Mollie and Dave. And thank you for allowing me to be a part of your special day. I was honored!

Happy New Year!